The Relationship Agitation
by nerdonthebat
Summary: Perhaps if they can find out where they went wrong, this whole break business will just come out in the wash. Spoilers through 9x07.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been eight years since I've published a fanfic and at least four since I've attempted to write one. I'm rusty. These spoilers and plot bunnies were burning a hole in my brain, so I came out of retirement to fulfill my need for closure. I'm still trying to sort out my feelings on all this and nothing really makes sense right now. SPOILERS THROUGH 9x06, and hopefully AU by 9x07. I repeat, SPOILERS THROUGH 9x06. Standard disclaimers apply.**

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It was Saturday night, always laundry night, but a peek in the basement found only the low hum of the fluorescent lighting. Amy saw one of the washers was closed, but it had stopped running. Quickly looking back to make sure no one had followed her downstairs, she took a deep breath and walked over to the machine, hesitating before setting her hand on the lid. It felt like an invasion of his privacy, a window into a life she was no longer a part of.

She expected to find a swirl of bright colors, damp purple and green shirts tangled with tan slacks and a teasing hint of white briefs. Instead, the washer basin held mostly black shirts and dark pants. The deep red of the Flash t-shirt stood out among the muted clothes and caused Amy's breath to hitch slightly. It was a replacement shirt, as his first one once hugged a large bag of rice in her apartment. In the past couple weeks, the shirt had moved. First, it landed in the trash, where it was almost instantly snatched up and shoved in the back of a drawer. After a few days, the shirt traveled to the box containing his belongings, which had once contained the mementos he had returned. Finally, on a sleepless night, she grabbed the shirt and held it tightly under her pillow. There it stayed. The fading aroma of talc didn't help the insomnia, but she couldn't bring herself to send that last piece of him away.

For about a minute, Amy stared into the washer, taking in the sight and scent of _him_.

Her brain barely registered the sound of feet shuffling down the last few stairs and stopping at the doorway. She held her breath, debating whether she should try closing the washer lid and turn around to face him, or wait and see if he fled. The seconds stretched out until she couldn't take it anymore. With slightly shaking hands, she gently set the lid down and spun around before she lost her nerve.

Amy tried to read Sheldon as he stood silently in the entrance to the room. His eyes were wide and clear, but the puffiness beneath them told her that his sleep was about as effective as hers had been. Sheldon's cheeks seemed slimmer, and his hair a bit more unkempt, but other than that he was the same man. The blue shirt he wore was one of her favorites. It complimented his eyes perfectly and reminded her of warm hugs and a pet store. She tried to conjure up a word to describe the feeling that engulfed her, but she couldn't think of a single term that encompassed guilt, remorse, desire, and love.

What was he feeling?

When a moment had passed, Amy cleared her throat and stepped away from the washer. "I, um..." she started. "I was checking to see if you were down here before going upstairs. I know it's laundry night." Despite the penetrating gaze they had on each other a few seconds ago, Amy could no longer find the courage to look Sheldon in the eye. She knew he had trouble maintaining eye contact unless he trusted the person, and it was possible that trust was now broken. She wasn't ready to find out.

"Yes, well," he said, with a voice far more raspy than she had anticipated, "here I am. If you will excuse me, I need to move my clothing to the dryer before they succumb to the twin curses of mold and mildew." He brushed past her and flung the washer lid open, leaving his back turned to her and the tension in the room.

"We need to talk."

"Oh, do we?" Sheldon asked. "I remember this part when Leonard and Penny were broken up. No one better to seek dating advice from than the person who's been there and done that. So, trouble in paradise already?" Amy heard the expected haughtiness of his tone, but it was covered with a layer of resignation.

"Sheldon, that's not why I'm here. And I know you are hurt by what you saw. You aren't the only one." Amy's voice began to waver as all the threads of this conversation they needed to have, and should have had long before now, began to unravel in the path between her brain and her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? For moving on and trying out someone else? I don't blame you, it's apparently standard advice to seek new options, but it must be some sort of old wives' tale. I thought our friends knew better than to dish out common mythology to educated scientists as some sort of prescription for heartbreak. Should have looked at Snopes first." He paused and stood up a bit straighter. "I'm a bit surprised about the kissing though. I wonder, how long will it take to put coitus on the table this time, hm?" He turned around and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Sheldon..."

"Or, perhaps..." Sheldon drew out his word as he turned completely around and leaned against the edge of the machine, crossing his arms defensively over his chest, "your apology is for leaving me in the lurch for weeks without a hint as to where we went wrong? Penny did explain that my behavior in the fruitless attempts to communicate with you about our parting were similar to those of a male donkey. So in that case, consider your apology to be unwarranted, and I will shoulder the responsibility." Sheldon stared at her like a chess opponent, already seeing several moves ahead but yet unable to predict the outcome of the match.

"Okay," Amy said, hesitantly as she calculated her next words. "There's something I need to tell you. It's…" Her mouth went dry as she struggled to make this confession.

"It's… what?" She could almost feel his anxiety rising, the scenarios running through his head, the gripping fear that this was really, truly coming to an end. Perhaps she was merely projecting her own emotions, only hoping he felt the same, or at least something other than indifference.

Amy took a deep breath. "It's about the engagement ring. I knew about it." She watched for the reaction from Sheldon. A long silence passed before he nodded and turned back to finish adding clothes to the dryer.

"I see," he said. "So someone in our mutual group of friends gave you access to the raw footage of Wheaton's documentary. I figured it was only a matter of time before that made its rounds on the Internet like a fifteen-second cat video."

"Yes, I saw it. Penny tricked me into a girls' movie night, claiming it was the 'tear-jerker of the year'."

"I agree. Talking about beloved fictional characters and the parallels to one's own life may be a little hippy dippy, but it does make for watery eyes." This was how he put his emotions into words, not directly, but through safer mediums. Science fiction, physics, other people. She knew this, had always known this, but somewhere along the line she started conflating it with their challenges with physical intimacy and the pace of the relationship.

A nauseating wave of guilt swept over her as she realized that misunderstanding his intentions was her part in this mess. She shook her head slightly, gathering strength for her next words.

"I mean," Amy whispered, "I knew about the ring before the break up." Sheldon slammed the dryer door and whipped around to face her again.

"How did you find out about it?" he demanded. "I had the ring stored securely in the wall safe, which I doubt you knew about. Leonard lived there for a decade and had no idea it was there."

"Not on the night of our anniversary."

Sheldon crossed his arms again. "Why were you snooping around my desk?"

"You had gone into the bathroom to brush your teeth. I had a loose thread on my dress and was looking for your sewing kit scissors to snip it off. I knew if you saw the thread it would bother you enough to send me home to change clothes. I found the ring box when I put the scissors back." Amy watched as Sheldon's jaw dropped. His eyes lit up with growing agitation.

"So you knew I was going to ask you to marry me? You knew that after five years I was ready to take a huge step in our relationship and make a commitment beyond the bounds of the Relationship Agreement – which, by the way, you've been racking up the violations, little lady." Sheldon took a slow step toward her. "You knew, and then you broke up with me."

"I panicked," she confessed quickly. "I was so nervous when we were kissing on the couch, because I knew you were planning to propose, and when you brought up a television show I thought..." Amy's voice began to shake and trailed off as Sheldon stepped close enough that she could feel his warmth.

"What did you think? Amy, tell me."

"I thought..." she hesitated again, "I thought in that moment, that maybe you only wanted to get married to keep some sort of stability in your life. It was only a matter of time before Leonard moved out and left you alone. I was scared because I didn't feel I could say no if you asked, because I do love you. I wanted the time apart to sort out whether or not I could live with that." She felt her eyes begin to sting and cloud with moisture, but finally brought her gaze up to look Sheldon directly in the eyes.

"Let me get this straight," he spit out. "You assumed that I was going to suggest legally binding us together, permanently, as a way of maintaining control? All because I was making conversation during an intimate moment between us?"

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, letting the first tears fall. Sheldon had seen her in moments of sadness, in the throes of frustration, and in the agony of physical pain, but in five years, she had never really let him see her cry. She always figured her tears would be some sort of kryptonite, repelling him and damaging the respect he had for her mind. Once before, Sheldon had said that he didn't want her to see him fail. But failure, she knew, was part of the human condition. As was the fear of it. In hindsight, Amy had set this same standard to her emotional display, and it had resulted in a sudden crash and burn.

She felt Sheldon breeze past her toward the doorway. At first, Amy was discouraged that he hadn't reached out to comfort her, but then realized his personal rules in this situation required a tea kettle and a pair of mugs. She turned and followed him out of the laundry room.

"It wasn't just that," she pleaded as they ascended the staircase to the main floor. "Every time I have suggested moving forward in our relationship, I'm met with negotiation at best..."

"What's wrong with that?" he asked as Amy caught up to him on the landing.

"… and hostility at worst. The night you left on your train trip, you mocked the idea of us ever building a family and sharing a _life_ together. Any time I have a hint of romantic desire you deride it as unnecessary and 'beneath us' as 'highly evolved beings'." Amy fought the urge to use her hands to emphasize her words, hoping her tone was just as effective. "You hide the fact that you apply for a one-way trip to outer space where I'd likely have to watch you die alone, millions of miles away, and act like I'm crazy for being upset by this."

"I thought we worked this out," Sheldon said. "Remember, cute Martian babies?"

"You have to have sex in order to have cute Martian babies!" Amy snapped. "I've been so patient with you, because if the tables were turned, I wouldn't want you pushing me into a physical relationship. But if children are ever going to be part of this," she gestured between the two of them, "we need to move forward in that."

Sheldon stopped climbing stairs at the second floor landing and shot a confused look at her. "What does table positioning have to do with coitus? Never mind, I probably don't want to know."

They resumed walking, and Amy continued, "And I was fine with just sleeping during our sleepover. But the next morning, you practically ran out of the apartment without me, and I barely heard from you for days afterward." She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, no longer hoping that Sheldon hadn't seen them.

"Amy," Sheldon pleaded, "my relative absence lately had nothing to do with you or with any progress in our relationship. I have been busier than usual. The academic year was ending, I've been giving more interviews and lectures than ever before due to the paper with Leonard, and my mother was in town."

"Yeah, I know," Amy said. "You took her out to dinner and didn't invite me."

"Of course I didn't!" he exclaimed as they started the last set of stairs toward the fourth floor. "How was I supposed to ask my mother for advice on proposing marriage if you were sitting right there?" She hadn't thought of that.

They remained silent until reaching the threshold of 4A, where Sheldon opened the door and motioned for her to enter. "Well I guess we have a lot to talk about. Ladies first," he announced, then followed her inside and shut the door.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Spoilers possible. Thanks for reading, and thanks to all those in the Shamy fandom that have made this lurker laugh during these dark, frustrating times.**

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Amy set her purse down on the chair near the door and followed Sheldon into the kitchen area. Either he noticed how upset she had been going up the stairs or was prepared for a distressing evening, as he headed straight for the tea kettle and turned toward the sink to fill it. Without hesitation, Amy pulled the wooden box of tea bags from the shelf under the island. With something to do besides play out versions of the conversation to come in her head, she felt calmer. The tears evaporated, the slight tremor in her hands dissipated, and her throat no longer felt constricted. She opened the lid and began to sort through the tea flavors with a soothing familiarity.

"Chamomile, mandarin orange, Earl Grey..."

"Blech," Sheldon interjected. "That vile concoction must be Leonard's. Remind me to… well, I'll have to return those to him later." The tap shut off, and he set the kettle on the stove.

"Okay," Amy continued. "Let's see… ginger and turmeric? I've never seen this before. Have you been experiencing gastrointestinal distress?" Her own stomach had been tied up in knots off and on since the break up, either from halting the dinner rotation that she had once shared with Sheldon and their friends or the unsettling feeling that something, somehow had gone horribly wrong in their once comfortable relationship.

"Occasionally. There have been a few missed meals lately when I have been absorbed in work. And Penny once tried to provide comfort with a container of Ben and Jerry's, and as a result I have a more thorough understanding of Leonard's battle with lactose."

"I see," Amy said, as Sheldon approached the counter with two mugs. He set them down, and Amy handed him a pair of tea bags. Until that moment, their movements felt so familiar and routine. But as they passed the tea bags between them, the touch of fingertips ignited something that she had never felt before. It wasn't quite lust, like the hormonal wave that had passed through her when she shook Zack's hand years ago. It wasn't love or desire or trepidation, as those were familiar feelings whenever she touched Sheldon. None of those words could fully explain the squeezing sensation deep in her chest that appeared at that moment.

It was tension. Though their fingers only grazed in that moment, she could feel the push and pull of a cord that would inevitably snap. The energy flowed from one of them to the other and back, an alternating current of emotions that she couldn't evaluate quickly enough before Sheldon withdrew his hand.

"Mint, excellent choice," he told her, a bit raspier than she had been expecting. _Interesting_ , she thought.

Sheldon dropped the tea bags into the mugs, then silently left the kitchen. Before Amy could turn around, she heard the sound of the legs of the easel being fastened into place. He set the easel in its usual spot, then slid a whiteboard out from its resting place against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.

"Now," Sheldon said, as he pulled a marker and eraser from his second desk drawer, "before we have this discussion, I believe we should set some ground rules. Since we are both well-respected scientists, there's no reason we should let our emotions get in the way of us solving our problems with time-tested methodology and solid reasoning."

"Fair enough," Amy agreed. Science was a neutral territory for them, one they held in high regard and could play the role of mediator better than anyone. The collapse of their relationship was fraught with emotional aspects that couldn't truly be unraveled with pure science, but a set of guideposts at least gave Amy a framework to voice her concerns. "May I make the first suggestion?"

Sheldon nodded toward her, "Yes, go ahead." He uncapped the marker, ready to create their discussion guidelines.

"Okay, no ad hominem attacks on each other. We will bring up each of our concerns in this relationship as a problem to tackle together." Amy tried to make her voice firm and resolute, masking the gnawing in her gut.

Sheldon finished writing _No ad hominem attacks_ on the board and turned back to Amy. "I don't know why this would be an issue."

"Really?" Amy crossed her arms and glared at Sheldon. "Because I recall several _discussions_ between us that have devolved into insults about my gender, my field of study, or my personal interests." She tried to make her words a statement rather than an indictment, but it was difficult to keep her tone from being affected by her simmering irritation. This wasn't a good start to the evening, and she prepared herself for Sheldon's rebuttal.

Surprisingly, instead of a defensive posture and a biting retort, she was met with silence and contemplation. He was a fast thinker, and his mouth often moved even quicker, but this was new. Amy wondered if she was dreaming, and the doubts began to fog her mind again.

"Next rule," Sheldon stated, ignoring Amy's prior comment, "I believe we should take turns asking questions of the other party, and each question must be answered to satisfaction before moving on." Amy nodded in agreement, but his words repeated in her mind. _Each question must be answered to satisfaction before moving on._ She didn't know which part was more worrying, the questions they had, the answers they needed, or "moving on", whether it was together or apart.

They continued with their guidelines, with Amy adding a provision for controlling the variables, specifically the need to handle this discussion in private. She didn't know if Leonard and Penny still had the habit of barging through the door, but while she couldn't prevent their intrusion, their involvement in the discussion would complicate their progress significantly.

Sheldon readily agreed to this condition and added three of his own: an infinite supply of hot beverages that could be switched based on the swing of their moods, unlimited bathroom breaks due to the consumption of hot beverages, and no physical contact with each other during the question and answer period.

Sheldon finished writing his last condition on the board and capped the marker. "Surely any intimate touching could taint the results of this discussion."

Amy paused. "There is an idea that holding hands while talking out difficult relationship issues can be helpful. Maintaining touch with the one's partner might make it harder to say hurtful things or exaggerate when recalling past events." Her pulse accelerated a bit as she remembered the overwhelming rush she felt earlier in the kitchen when their fingers brushed together. She was torn between the desire to feel his skin on hers again, to absorb and embrace that tension, and the resolve to maintain some distance until they were back on solid footing.

"Is that so?" Sheldon asked. "Was that the conclusion of a peer-reviewed scientific study or a fabricated reader survey in the April issue of Cosmopolitan?"

"Sheldon," Amy warned, "you're veering very close to..."

"That's not to say," he interrupted, "that I haven't found sound advice from magazines catering to women stuck behind check writers in the grocery checkout lanes. Pop psychology may get lucky from time to time by shooting arrows in the dark, but it just wouldn't fit within our scientific investigation."

Dropping the subject, Amy took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt, expecting Sheldon to sit down in his spot to her left to begin their discussion. To her surprise, he turned and walked to his desk. His back was turned to her, and she could hear the top drawer opening and his hands riffling through its contents. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was the same drawer she had found the diamond engagement ring on their anniversary. _Oh no. Surely he wouldn't…_

Sheldon turned around, but instead of a velvet ring box, he held a folder and an ink pen. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and went over to the couch. As he sat down gently beside her, using the back of the couch to steady himself, she could see what he held in his hands.

The original copy of the Relationship Agreement.

They had used a digital copy on their iPads for years when making additions and wording changes to their contract. It was easily malleable and could be restored to a prior version in case of errors. Amy knew his attempt to end their relationship after the dining table fiasco wasn't a seriously considered termination attempt because of the presence of the digital version, which she knew could be restored as easily as it could be signed. But this hard copy, the same improperly notarized one she held in her hands the night he asked her to be his girlfriend, could never be unsigned. There was no survey afterward or backup in the cloud. This held her original signature as she agreed to a romantic relationship and therefore be referred to as Amy Farrah Fowler, girlfriend to Sheldon Lee Cooper, the boyfriend.

He held the folder and pen out to her.

"Before we begin," Sheldon said, with his voice barely higher than a whisper, "I'm giving you the option to end our relationship officially, now. I will unhappily not object if that's what you really want." He swallowed audibly. "It doesn't make sense to go through with this discussion if the end result is already decided to be the dissolution of our affair. Amy, despite what you might think, I'm willing to accept my role in these events and adjust my behavior. However, if you have concluded that I'm not the man you desire to be your mate, then… let's just get this over with."

"What do you want?" Amy asked, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

"I want you to decide. It appears you've had time and space to think, with enough left over to look for other fish in the sea." Sheldon appeared to be uncomfortably fighting to keep eye contact. "So, Amy Farrah Fowler, what is your hypothesis?"

"I believe we can use our superior intellect to unravel the events of the past few weeks and successfully reestablish our relationship," Amy stated, sounding more confident than she felt in that moment. She handed back to Sheldon the Relationship Agreement packet and pen, the termination signature field still blank.

"Good, I'm glad you're up to the task." Sheldon grinned and exhaled with relief. She wondered if it was the first genuine smile he'd had in a while.

"Sheldon," Amy asked, "what happens if we can't work this out? I mean, we've both been there before, with hypotheses that we were sure would turn out correct, only to find flaws in the methodology that can't be fixed, or results based on variables that couldn't have been predicted."

"I guess then we agree to separate permanently anyway. And I'll have to find a way to get some more boxes so I can start packing." He set the paperwork and pen down on the table in front of them.

"Packing? You're moving to a new apartment?"

"If we deem our relationship to be beyond repair, then I will have to proceed with a new chapter in my life. Change is coming, one way or another." Sheldon paused for a mere second. "I'll be leaving Pasadena."

Amy's eyes widened. Before she could process that, let alone respond, the kettle on the stove let out an angry whistle.

"Be right back," Sheldon excused himself. He quickly stood up from the couch and headed for the kitchen to prepare their tea.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Any assumptions and errors on the world of academic research are likely existent and entirely my own doing.**

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It was starting to feel like Groundhog Day as Amy, much like during their anniversary night, watched Sheldon's backside move away from her while her temper flared. She knew that the flight portion of his acute stress response was overwhelmingly dominant, but the circumstances and timing of his announcement reeked of manipulation. That surprised Amy, since she had been the one to teach him certain tactics to steer situations in his favor. He had tried immediately after their breakup, unsuccessfully, to fool her into believing he had women on the side. She saw through his guilt trips and provocation using Fun with Flags and his sly attempt to get her to move in with him as a roommate. But when he said he was working on moving on and trying to date again, she bought it. It was the first time since their Skype conversation, the one that marked the beginning of the end, that she sincerely believed the words coming out of his mouth.

Was she wrong? Was he misleading her about dating again? Could he be still pulling things out of his bag of tricks?

"Sheldon, you can't threaten to leave just because we're not together anymore." Amy stood up, but didn't follow him into the kitchen. "And you can't run away every time something in life doesn't go your way."

"I'm not running away," Sheldon responded as he picked up the tea kettle with a gloved hand and moved it to the island next to their mugs. "And that wasn't a question. Try again." She sat down and waited silently as he poured hot water into the mugs and placed the kettle back on the stove. Even though her eyes stared at the floor, she could feel his gaze burning into her from across the room. After a moment, he picked up the mugs and carefully walked to the couch, where he sat her mug down on the right side of the folder on the table. He folded his hands around the mug and sunk down into the cushion of his spot.

"Ouch," he muttered, as he set the hot mug down.

Amy sighed. "Okay. I guess we'll work backwards through each of the issues, starting at… what you just told me. Why do you want to leave?" Sheldon paused for a moment and turned toward her. His knee brushed against hers momentarily, but they both adjusted quickly to break the contact.

"Amy, from time to time, universities around the country try to pick off talented scientists, luring them with better or more stable opportunities in academia. I mean, that's what Caltech did to you when you left UCLA. They dangled a few cages of monkeys and a fat check and you came running." Sheldon smiled at her with what appeared to be genuine pride. Amy felt a light blush crawl up her cheeks.

"Until last year," he continued, "I was completely satisfied with my position at the university and had no desire to entertain any seduction attempts with grant money and tenured employment. I had friends and a comfortable life here." He looked down and away from her. "And I had you." Sheldon had meant those words to be gentle, but it stung. She knew he was hurting, but he was no longer hiding it behind blame and childish antics. The vulnerability he was allowing her to see was unnerving.

"You said you were satisfied, but you when you tried to switch fields, they tried to stop you," Amy stated. "It was part of what drove you away from here for over a month."

"Yes," Sheldon nodded.

"Didn't everything work out when you returned?"

"It did. And after time away, I was more prepared to adapt to the new focus in my research. But the university never fully accepted my shift to dark matter study."

"But they did agree to the change, even if it wasn't ideal for them. And you managed to teach a class during the whole academic year. Isn't that what they asked for?"

"There's more to it than that. Kripke is another string theorist, and having two particle physicists with the same study area made it easier for the department to procure grants. Now our proposals are submitted separately, and only having one name on the request puts us at a disadvantage. Specifically when that name isn't mine."

Amy smiled a bit at the self-congratulatory part of his ego. It was one of those aspects of his personality she found oddly endearing. "Surely you've had some interest in your new area of research. I mean, that paper you wrote with Leonard gained you a lot of notoriety. Even Stephen Hawking was impressed!"

"Amy," Sheldon chastised. "That wasn't a question."

"I'm seeking clarification," she replied. "My original question has not been answered to my satisfaction." Sheldon opened his mouth but, realizing she was correct, settled for a defeated nod.

"Fine. If you must know, despite the publication of our superfluid theory, we have not received any financial support from the university to further the study, apart from our travel reimbursements for conference speaking. Leonard and I have resorted to begging others in the department for materials and time on equipment." Sheldon sighed deeply. "I haven't had a grant awarded in over a year. Perhaps I need to be somewhere else, where there's more interest in my research area and less worship of wild goose chases."

"Is that why you applied for the Mars mission?" Amy saw the pieces starting to fall together. "And why you didn't tell me? Are you still afraid that I'll see you fail?"

"Three questions in a row!" Sheldon exclaimed. "Maybe I should have put a limit on your supplemental queries. In kindergarten, my teacher gave me three clothespins on a notecard every morning, and when I ran out I wasn't allowed to ask any more..."

"Sheldon! Focus!"

"Fine, I was worried you'd be disappointed in me. Blasting myself into space on a one-way trip to another planet seemed like the first good idea I'd come up with on my own for a long time. And I didn't even come up with that idea, that was all the private space exploration sector's doing." He reached down to pick up his mug and dunked the tea bag in and out nervously. Amy also reached down and picked up her beverage. She blew across the top, then sipped carefully. Her head spun with the realization that Sheldon, as accomplished he was at this point in his life, was still struggling with his career choices. Neurobiology research had been kind to her over the years, with several major grants funded at more than one institution. She was leading research studies at the request of prestigious departments, but even her current project was nearing its end without a new development in the works. Grant money was becoming more difficult to come by as funds shifted to technology fields, but she lived simply and had no more than a passing worry that her job was in jeopardy. How much more difficult it must be for Sheldon, who had gained so much attention as a scientific and mathematical prodigy, to see his years of admiration dwindle to a drought.

"Okay," Amy sighed, as she set her mug back down on the table. "Now I know why you want to leave, but where would you go?"

"I have had a bit of a reputation around the physics community as being 'difficult to work with in a team environment'."

"Exact words?" Amy asked with a smirk.

"Yes," Sheldon admitted. "And that's just Koothrappali's take on it. I've been offered faculty positions at other universities, but never on larger projects that would require me to collaborate with other scientists. Apparently when I publicly shared credit with Leonard on the paper, it didn't go unnoticed by other physics programs." Sheldon pulled his lips between his teeth and turned slightly away from her. She had known him long enough to recognize this as his ' _Amy isn't going to like this'_ reaction.

"Did you receive an offer?" Amy asked, wondering whether or not she was ready to hear his answer.

Sheldon sighed. "I was offered a spot on a research team through CERN. My position would be based at Harvard, but I would be collaborating with colleagues at MIT and Cambridge, and with the scientists in Switzerland."

"Sheldon," Amy whispered. "That's incredible."

"It is. This research has the potential to put me closer to the Nobel Prize, closer to making a truly remarkable contribution to physics. At this point," Sheldon paused, "I'm not sure if what I'm doing here at Caltech could ever match up." He couldn't meet her eyes, and even though she was thrilled for him, her heart sank at the realization that he could not pass up this opportunity. Not for his comfort of home, or his friends, or even her. The world of science needed a mind like his to unlock the secrets of the universe, especially now that he had proven himself to be capable of working effectively with other brilliant physicists.

"How long have you known about this?" Amy asked. She watched Sheldon place his mug down and swallow thickly.

"The morning after our sleepover," he said, barely above a whisper. "I woke up before you, but I didn't want to get up. I was enjoying lying next to you, so I checked my email on my phone. That's why I ran out of here so quickly that morning, the coordinator arranged a meeting by phone and because of the time difference I was going to be late." Sheldon looked down at his feet.

"Were you afraid I'd be upset? Especially after the Mars application?"

"Yes," he confessed.

"It isn't quite the same thing, because you didn't initiate," Amy pointed out. "They contacted you first, correct?"

Sheldon nodded. "I didn't come to you right away because I wanted to be sure of the details before I brought it up. I had some conditions I wanted met before I would consider it."

"Like what?"

"A comparable salary, obviously," he said. "And I was adamant that my acceptance of the job would come with a position in the Harvard neurobiology department for my… for you. Between your recognition in your field and alumni status, they agreed more quickly than I had expected."

Amy blinked. "Sheldon, while I appreciate you not wanting to move across the country without me, you can't go around soliciting job offers in my favor." Sheldon opened his mouth, but Amy held her hand up to stop him. "I am perfectly capable of finding a position at another university if I wanted to."

"I know, but..."

"But nothing! These are things partners discuss and decide together. I've worked very hard for every opportunity and every success. It's disrespectful to approach a future employer my behalf to make a deal, especially when it's to benefit you. If you're wondering why I needed time to think about the dynamic of our relationship, here's a good example." Sheldon kept glancing between the floor and Amy's eyes as she chastised him.

"I'm sorry, Amy."

"Your heart was in the right place."

"Nonsense," he replied, "my heart has not moved from its location directly behind my breastbone."

"I mean you did what you thought was helpful. But if we move forward, you need to confide in me, especially with changes that will affect both of us."

Sheldon nodded slowly. "I understand." He paused. "In case you were wondering, I have not given an answer to the coordinator yet. Funding for this position doesn't go into effect until next fall."

"What would you have done until then? Or will you?" Amy started to get flustered when considering all the hypothetical scenarios he (and they) were facing. If they didn't work this out, he would leave. If they got back together, they could leave together or stay in California. Or they could attempt a long distance relationship, but now she knew he was seriously considering marriage, she doubted that would be an option. It was too soon to even consider the ramifications, so she shelved the topic in her mind for now, knowing they would have to deal with this in the future. That is, if they still had a future.

"I suppose I could travel. Meemaw isn't in the greatest of health anymore, and it would be nice to spend time with her. I could always write a book or give speeches. Or organize a protest at Disney against their desecration of the Star Wars universe."

"Very well," Amy said, as she picked up her tea mug. "I think this question has been answered to my satisfaction. Your turn."

Sheldon's face snapped up at her instantly, and instead of the humble look of one who was recently admonished, he wore his pain and desperation with a hint of anger. Amy leaned back slightly, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Alright. Next question. Who is he?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. This is the most difficult and confusing part of the story line for me, and I'm sure that is reflected here. Once again, SPOILERS through 9x07.**

* * *

" _Next question. Who is he?"_

Amy held her breath involuntarily as she processed his question. _They were broken up, she could go on dates with anyone she wanted._ It was the mantra she had repeated to herself multiple times over the last few weeks. Despite the subject not provoking an angry, jealous tirade out of Sheldon in the laundry room earlier that evening, she had trouble not letting a wave of emotion overcome her and threaten to wash away the constructive progress they had made.

 _They were broken up, she could go on dates with anyone she wanted_.

She was correct, and she now knew that he knew she was correct, but she couldn't help how her throat clenched and eyes stung with threatened tears.

As she struggled to regain her composure, she noticed Sheldon stiffen in his seat. His blue eyes widened and his body shifted and turned slightly in his spot.

"I'm not very good at deciphering body language, but bringing up this person is obviously upsetting to you." He paused and frowned. "Amy, did he hurt you? Because after taking fencing lessons, I feel more confident in my ability to dispatch someone with the wielding of a sword. Although with your knowledge of pressure points on the human body, I'm sure you could have handled it yourself with less mess. I'm also quite familiar with the process of obtaining a restraining order..."

"No, Sheldon," Amy interrupted. "He didn't hurt me."

Sheldon sighed in relief. "Oh good." A heavy silence fell between them as Amy tried to formulate the words to explain the situation.

"He's..." she hesitated. "His name is Dave. He's the son of one of my mother's friends, and we've known each other for most of our lives. I wouldn't say we were childhood friends, but we saw each other at social functions once or twice a year until we hit puberty."

"Why until puberty?" Sheldon asked.

"My mother was uncomfortable with me continuing to have one-on-one social interactions with the opposite sex once I crossed the line from 'girl' to 'young woman'. One summer, Dave and I were playing in tree houses and reading the Narnia series that my mother had banned, while the adults had tea in the living room. The next year, I was left at home alone when we were invited to their house, or locked in my room when my mother was hosting. By the time I was old enough to join the adults in conversation, he was no longer coming to visit with his mother."

Amy wistfully recalled the summer afternoons spent laying on swiped lawn furniture cushions, inhaling the musty scent of second hand books that had been pulled from storage to give their stories a new life. They imagined themselves as two of the Pevensie children, peering down from a cupboard into the magical world around them. She remembered the trepidation she felt in reenacting any scenes with the White Witch, fearful that her mother would spy her from the window and drag her inside to lecture the evil out of her bones. Dave, or Davey as he was called then, had no such fears, but he always preferred to take on the role of Peter and never succumbed to the same temptations as Edmund, even in their pretend play.

"I would have loved to be left alone at that age instead of dragged to various church picnics and holy roller revivals." Sheldon said, interrupting her memory. "And most kids didn't want to play with me anyway."

"I'm sorry," Amy apologized. "I didn't have any friends either. And I really didn't consider Dave a friend, because we only saw each other a few times a year. But before we could even have a friendship, I was locked in a bedroom alone every time our mothers got together. I guess I grew out of playing make-believe anyway." She recalled the painful feeling of sitting in her room, hidden away from the chit-chat down the hall, hearing only a faint word or two coming from the boy who used to be the closest thing she had to a friend. Instead of an adventure seeker in a magical realm, she was the child from The Secret Garden, hidden away in a mysterious room, waiting for someone to rescue her and prove her life had not been crippled by emerging womanhood.

"I don't understand. Did your mother find out you were reading what she deemed inappropriate books and exploring mythical worlds without her permission?"

"I think she was more afraid we'd end up exploring each other."

"Oh." Sheldon gulped. "I see."

"Anyway, I never saw him again after I was a teenager. After I told my mother that you and I broke up, she gave his mother my phone number. He called me and we met at a coffee shop one evening. It was like old friends catching up after years apart. It was nice that someone remembered me fondly from a time in my life where I didn't have too many happy memories."

"Oh," Sheldon sighed. "That's quite a relief to me, to be honest. I was imagining some sort of romantic liaison, not a meeting with a long-lost acquaintance where you immersed yourself temporarily in nostalgia."

"Actually," Amy corrected, "we went out more than once. The second time was more of, um, a real date. Penny told me you saw us that night, as he was walking me back to my apartment building after dinner."

Sheldon stared at her for a moment. "Fine, so it was a date. What's wrong with him that he's still single at this age, hm? Is he divorced or a serial womanizer?"

"He's a widower."

"Oh."

"He married his high school sweetheart, and she died two years ago."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence fell over them. Amy took another sip of her tea, and Sheldon did the same. She felt his eyes darting up toward hers and back to the tea several times, and his mind was brimming with so many questions she could almost see them being bitten back.

Amy spoke first. "Out with it."

"Well," Sheldon started. "Tell me about him. I guess some background on the competition wouldn't hurt a bit." Amy struggled to not roll her eyes at him, although she knew he was completely serious.

"Sorry, your answer wasn't in the form of a question."

He glared at her. "Fine. How would you describe Dave in ten seconds?"

"Okay, he's a professor of literature at USC. He plays the harmonica and coaches intramural cricket. His favorite movie is Amadeus, and his favorite book is Ulysses."

He paused. "This is a joke, right?"

"You asked."

"Let me guess, he's never seen a television show as profound as Babylon 5."

"He adores Babylon 5," Amy deadpanned.

"Sarcasm?"

"Affirmative." Amy grinned, took another sip of tea, then set her mug back down on the table. She watched Sheldon's face, which seemed more sunken and pale than it had earlier. "Are you okay?"

"No, Amy, I'm not." He sighed and placed his mug back on the table as well. "You have a history with this Dave fellow. He seems intelligent and well-read, he plays an unpopular instrument, and he has good taste in avoiding drivel in the genre of science fiction. Not only that, he's proven to be a capable marriage partner and took his vows seriously."

Sheldon's eyes began to shine with tears, and Amy froze. She was prepared for him to yell at her or spew bitter words. She expected him to be still selfish and demand an apology. And if there were tears, they would be accompanied by begging or bargaining. If he had passed through all those stages, perhaps he would have isolated himself in his room and refused to speak to her, or anyone else.

He was beyond that. While she had tried to shut out the noise that surrounded their relationship, his antics and the jabs of their friends and the passage of time around them, and think about where this was all going, Sheldon had grieved. And this grief of losing her, and perhaps of losing himself, had molded him into something new, something she hadn't expected. He had been honest with her; he hadn't masked any of his words with disrespect or childish antagonism. Even in the laundry room and on the stairs, he made known his point of view without forcing her to agree.

She knew what he wanted to ask next, the question that was bringing him to the brink of tears, and she took pity and answered before he could force the words out of his mouth.

"Sheldon," Amy said, as she leaned down to pull his gaze into hers, "he is a nice man. And yes, he does have many traits that would make him a good partner in a romantic relationship. But I am not falling in love with him."

Sheldon looked away. "He kissed you on the second date, and it took me years to get to that point."

"You took my breath away with that kiss on the train. It was worth every slow and steady second. Sooner doesn't mean better."

"He could make you happy."

"Maybe. But Dave and I are in very different places in right now. He lost his first love and is trying to fall in love again, and I can't move on when you are sitting right here in front of me. And I… I still..."

"But Amy," Sheldon interrupted, "don't you think you deserve a man who can appreciate you and give you happiness without fighting a lifelong habit of suppressing emotions? I'm trying, but I don't change quickly, no matter how much I want to. I'm bound to make you angry again and again..."

"You are sitting here telling me the one thing I've wanted to hear for years!" Amy rose up off the couch and stood over him. "Every time you've made me happy, you've been trying and you didn't even know it. But at this point, what I need is for you to _want_ to try. I can't drag you kicking and screaming through every stage of our relationship, and especially not through a marriage."

Sheldon rose to his feet. "Then why have you been dating other men instead of telling me this?" he argued, pointing over her shoulder at the door. "Why didn't you say something weeks ago?"

"Because you wouldn't have heard it!" Amy yelled. "I hoped you'd be ready to have this conversation after we had some time apart. But it never happened. The first time we saw each other in person since the break up, you told me you were already trying to date someone else and move on. What was _I_ supposed to think, Sheldon?!" She felt her eyes swell with tears again, and while she fought those back, she heard Sheldon sniff and bring a wrist up to his cheek.

They stood there silently, inches apart, for a minute that felt like an hour. Amy's hands tensed into fists and then relaxed, as she fought the urge to reach out for him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, but at the same time she wanted to push him back. It was similar to how she felt for the past few weeks, desperate for distance between them while yearning for his touch and companionship.

Sheldon took a step closer, reached out with his right hand, and took her left hand into his. His thumb grazed over her ring finger.

He cleared his throat. "I move to pause the discussion guidelines for five minutes, because I have something to say that doesn't fit the question-and-answer parameters. Also, I really needed to touch you for this next part."

"O-okay. Motion granted."

"Very well." Sheldon pulled at her hand and took a step back, and she followed until she stood where he had been a moment before. With a hint of awkwardness, Sheldon put his other hand on her shoulder and pushed her down gently. Amy was confused, until she realized he was trying to get her to sit down on the couch without saying so. She eased down, smoothing her skirt with her free hand, and Sheldon took a seat next to her.

He looked up with a nervous grin. Even though they had been sitting together on this same sofa all evening, everything had tilted on its axis.

Sheldon had given her his spot.

"If this, um, doesn't work out," he whispered, "I'm not going to fall in love with someone again."

"You don't know that," Amy whispered back.

"Amy," he said, with hesitation. "Despite what the guys have tried to convince me of, I don't need just any person to make my life worthwhile. If you decide that this relationship is not worth the trouble, then I will live out the rest of my days unattached. I'll have my work and my hobbies, just like I had before you came into my life. And that, along with a fully-stocked emergency kit and a savings account, is enough to survive on."

"I'm not sure where you're going with this..."

"Hang on. I know there is no scientific basis for the concept of a soulmate. And I obviously don't believe in any spiritual mumbo jumbo where an all-knowing deity pairs up human beings like dolls. That being said, you are the only person I will ever be able to commit myself to. You make me happy in a way that I never imagined, and I want you to feel that way too. I'll do whatever it takes."

Amy tried to speak but no words could come out. Her entire world had been twisted and spun and tangled and stretched, and it looked strange and backward coming from the one physical location in the apartment, the one part of Sheldon, that everyone else in his life had been denied. Her head nodded almost involuntarily, and she had barely enough time to register Sheldon's mouth crashing toward hers.

"Wait!" she cried at the last second, causing Sheldon's head to snap up.

"What now?"

"We're not finished with our discussion, and I have more questions."

"We still have three more minutes until the no physical contact guideline is reinstated. Please, Amy?" he begged.

Although amused by Sheldon's efforts to start a make out session without her suggesting it first, she held firm. "If we get these issues handled now, we'll have time to, um, finish what we've started."

Sheldon rolled his eyes and adjusted his seat on the center of the couch. "Very well. The rules of the evening are hereby reinstated, and I believe the question is yours, Dr. Fowler."

Amy sat up as straight as possible, while Sheldon reached across her to pick up his tea mug. "Okay, I'm going a little out of order with our reverse processing of the relationship issues, but this is what I need to ask next. Why haven't we had sex?"

She watched as he froze in place, mug halfway to his mouth, while the tea poured into his lap.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. SPOILERS through 9x07. I haven't really processed 9x08 yet. Despite the subject matter, I think it maintains it's T rating for now. Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

 _Amy sat up as straight as possible, while Sheldon reached across her to pick up his tea mug. "Okay, I'll cut right to the chase. Why haven't we had sex?"_

 _She watched as he froze in place, mug halfway to his mouth, while the tea poured into his lap._

"Oh no, I'll grab a towel!" Amy shot up off the couch and hurried to the kitchen.

"Dear Lord, woman," she heard from behind her, "you can't just spring that on me. Now look at the mess in my pants." Amy snickered as she dug through a drawer and pulled out a pair of red dish towels.

"I'll clean up the table and couch," Amy assured him as he took one of the towels to cover the warm, wet stain on his trousers.

"Thank you. I'm going to go change into something a little more comfortable." He stood carefully, wincing at what Amy assumed was the sensation of warm tea running down his leg, and waddled quickly to his bedroom. She heard the door click quietly behind him.

Amy smiled while she wiped up the spill. Along with his haughty confidence, she considered his innocence in understanding sexual humor to be charming. Once upon a time she had been similarly naive, but she had picked up on the meanings of several puns during college, while Bernadette and Penny later helped her fill in the rest of the details.

Despite putting up with years of remarks from their friends regarding sex, Sheldon still missed the punchline on many of their jokes. When he posted his latest Fun with Flags segment online, ripe with lewd commentary and suggestive remarks, she assumed he had searched the internet for help in crafting his dialogue. It was unlikely he could have come up with it on his own, although he seemed to understand his words more than he would have in the past. Beyond the crass video, Amy remembered how his eyes had roamed over her when returning her belongings. Even during the prom, when he had struggled to stay nearby due to his panic over her appearance and the expectation of intimacy, his eyes had never lingered over her body with a modicum of lust. Perhaps the shock of their separation had removed his resolve to keep his physical desires hidden.

She was still kneeling on the floor, dabbing up the last drops of tea from the couch cushion, lost in thought when Sheldon cleared his throat from inches behind her. Amy screamed in surprise, and in her attempt to turn around, fell backward into the table.

"Oh dear," Sheldon, who was now clad in dry, tan dress pants, exclaimed and grabbed her arms to assist her to her feet. "Are you injured?"

"A bit," Amy winced. "I hit my back on the table, but I think I'm okay." She flinched as she tried to turn to sit on the couch again. "Maybe not." Sheldon held her arms firmly, which prevented her from sitting back down on the couch.

"Perhaps I should look at that. If it's scraped, I can apply some antibiotic ointment and a bandage."

Amy opened her mouth to object, but instead nodded in acquiescence. There was a mild stinging that could have been a cut, and the last thing she needed was to bleed through her blouse.

Sheldon's hands moved from her arms to the buttons on the front of her cardigan. He slowly, but confidently, unfastened each of the four buttons. She noticed that his hands didn't tremble, and he never paused with trepidation. His eyes were focused on the task. Not once did he look up and silently look in her eyes for continued permission, let alone speak. It was as if he was completely unaffected by removing her clothing, even if it was to inspect an injury.

"Sheldon?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sexually attracted to me?" Finally, Sheldon's hands paused as he grasped the open edges of the sweater near the lowest button. He brought his gaze up to hers, and confusion set in on his brow.

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because," Amy said, "you've been taking off my sweater in a way that could trigger feelings of arousal, and I don't detect any evidence that you are experiencing that right now." Sheldon's eyes widened and he looked down his body and back up at Amy's face. A light blush reddened his cheeks.

"Well, right now I am assessing you for injury. Turn around," Sheldon ordered, bringing her hands up to her shoulders and guiding her until her back was toward him. He grasped the top edges of the cardigan and slid it down her arms. "And given that out current relationship status does not indicate that we would be engaging in any sort of physically intimate activities, it seems pointless to make any overtures."

"You really haven't made any overtures, ever," Amy accused. Sheldon folded Amy's sweater and placed it gently over the arm of the chair and turned back to her. She turned her head slightly to see Sheldon standing at her back in the periphery of her sight, but his hands remained at his sides.

"Is that the real reason you ended the relationship?"

Amy was silent for a moment. "It wasn't a sole reason. And I never wanted to pressure you. But it was part of several other concerns." Amy inhaled sharply as she felt Sheldon lift the back of her blouse and smooth his fingertips over her spine.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Thoracic spine, about T6 or so." His fingers glided up her back until they stopped at the location of her injury, just at the seam of her bra. Part of her was excited to feel his touch. It didn't quite have the same longing tension she had felt earlier. That layer had been shed as the contact had moved from the relatively benign to the relatively intimate. But another side of her felt hurt and embarrassed, that perhaps she was the only one whose heart was beating faster.

"It's not cut," Sheldon murmured, closer to her ear than he had been a second before. His fingertips traced the horizontal path of the mark the table had left on her back. "There's a mild abrasion, but I don't see any blood. It might leave a small bruise though. I don't know what I'm doing, Amy." It took Amy a moment to realize he was no longer talking about her injury.

"I don't understand." She turned around, letting her blouse fall back down. Sheldon's fingers fell back to his side, but not before grazing the curve of her breast as she turned around.

"I mean that I don't know how to initiate any kind of intimate encounter with you. I can kiss you and touch you, but unless we've discussed and arranged it, like on our anniversary night, I can't figure out how to… um..." Sheldon swallowed and looked away. "I wanted many times to escalate our physical relationship, but I didn't know where to start. And," he added, quietly, "I don't know how to stop."

"Well," Amy said, "I guess you just do what feels right at the time. And communicate."

"But that's the problem," Sheldon argued. "I watched my father 'do what feels right' with a woman who wasn't his wife. I saw my mother throw all of her deeply held beliefs out the window to 'do what feels right'. My friends have been hurt by 'doing what feels right' at the wrong time or with the wrong person. Even in a context that doesn't include coitus, I 'do what feels right' and it ends up with you yelling at me and suddenly we're broken up and I can't even figure out why because you won't 'communicate' with me. So no, I can't trust my feelings and instincts when it comes to sex or relationships, not like I can with my other interests and desires."

Amy grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the couch. She didn't try to put herself in his spot again, hoping that the comfort of his familiar place would calm him down a bit.

"Are you sure the problem is your intuition and feelings? If your instinct is to, I don't know, kiss longer or touch more intimately, isn't the rationalization of why you shouldn't act what's really holding you back?"

"Of course," he agreed. "But the thought process put into those rationalizations is often more reliable than my instincts."

"More reliable, or less risky?"

"Hmm. Maybe both. I know everyone thinks I wrote our Relationship Agreement as a way of maintaining control in our relationship..."

"That's how it was often used," Amy pointed out.

"… but it was a way to protect both of us from acting on feelings and ending up in a situation we weren't prepared for. Even I know that the biological drive to mate produces all kinds of goofy hormone juices that can override rational thinking."

"You thought we weren't prepared for a sexual relationship, but marriage was on the table?"

"I thought we were ready for both steps, simultaneously. At least I am. Was. Historically, they go hand in hand. I thought you would have understood, but perhaps I didn't do a very good job of communicating that to you."

"Obviously," Amy sighed. "I had no idea you were even interested. We finally spent the night together and…" Amy stopped. She knew she was getting close to throwing out accusations instead of unraveling concerns.

"I kissed you goodnight," he defended.

"Yes, standing up as if I was going home. Then we slept on the floor, a half foot apart, and never touched."

"You were facing away from me," Sheldon retorted. "You've never had a problem asking for cuddling before, so I reasoned that you were not comfortable with being touched in your sleep."

"Remember, you requested a slumber party that was more innocent than what I get up to with Penny and Bernadette."

"Fine," Sheldon said. "Assuming that there will be further sleepovers in our future, we will agree to make our intentions known. I don't usually feel pressured if we're alone and I can refuse or negotiate. Also, we could use those opportunities to, um, widen our physical boundaries with one another." Amy nodded and pulled her mug off the table. She watched Sheldon peer down into his mug and pick it up. Now too cool to drink, he dipped the tea bag in and out of the remaining liquid.

"I have another question," Amy said after the brief silence. "Why did you say you don't know how to stop?" Sheldon thought for a second while he recalled his statement.

"First of all, I'm not good at reading body language or facial cues. From everything that I've learned about sexual behavior, knowing when your partner is uncomfortable is important, even if they verbally consent."

"I understand that, Sheldon. If you can trust me that I will tell you very clearly if we need to slow down or stop, then I trust that you will listen." Sheldon stopped dunking the tea bag and stared at his mug. "Sheldon, what else are you worried about?"

He set his mug down. "Amy, do you remember when we performed an exercise to help me overcome my overwhelming need for closure?"

"Yes," Amy replied, "and I also know that you went behind my back to complete each of the tasks in order to satisfy your obsessive nature and alleviate your anxiety."

"How..."

"Your neighbor ratted you out." Sheldon rolled his eyes.

"I should have known. So you see how far I go and how frustrated I become when I am not able to complete a task that has been mapped out in my mind." He tapped on his temple.

"Yes..." Amy trailed off. A light went on in her mind. "You think that if we engaged in physical activity but stopped short of coitus..."

"I don't want to hurt you," Sheldon interrupted. "I know my compulsions are sometimes stronger than my will-power. I know I'm a genius and have few genuine failings, but this is one of them."

"I don't believe for a second that you would force me to do anything I wasn't ready for," Amy stated firmly. She could not believe what she was hearing. Despite their often frustratingly slow romantic pace, she appreciated his gentleness and lack of pressure and was careful to afford him the same. Amy never worried that he would harm her physically, and the prospect of a partner that didn't respect boundaries terrified her when she had gone out on other dates. Sure, he had been thoughtless and had used his words to hurt her at times, but the idea of Sheldon thinking he was even capable of taking advantage of her physically was nauseating.

"But I would react and say things that make you angry," he continued. "My discomfort would make me irrational and irritable. It would affect my work and routines and relationships. You'd leave me, for someone who would be easier to deal with, both inside and outside the bedroom. I realized that if we waited until we were completely ready for coitus, rather than working our way up to it, we could avoid this unpleasant scenario. It was easier to pretend I didn't have desires when I was afraid of what would happen if I just… let it happen." She didn't necessarily agree with his prediction, but decided not to push him on it.

"Why didn't you ever ask if I was ready for coitus? Why did you let me believe for so long you just weren't interested?"

Sheldon shrugged. "I didn't see a point in asking if I wasn't ready myself. Just like with my work, I didn't want you to know I'm a failure in this aspect of my life as well."

"You aren't a failure," Amy assured him. "Having struggles and difficulties doesn't mean you can't overcome them, or that you need to handle it on your own."

"I know. But I have conditioned myself to have no use for anything that I don't excel at or have experience with. I don't know how to be a husband or, eventually, father, but since the sleepover and the job offer I began to see what you meant by desiring a future together, and I'm ready to try. Even if I'm terrified that I could fail."

"It is rather intimidating, isn't it?" Amy mused. "To live together and create a family?"

"Yes," Sheldon agreed, and Amy noticed his voice was raspier. His breathing was a bit more labored and the flush of arousal had finally spread over him. Her heart began to race. She looked down as she felt his left hand rest upon her knee. Slowly, he trailed his palm up her thigh, coming to rest near the spot where he had rested his hand on their anniversary. His thumb traced back and forth, and arousal surged inward, threatening to override every reason they had to keep their hands off each other until they had all of the relationship obstacles tackled. He leaned in, so close she could register the scent of his skin and the sound of him moistening his lips, but too far to touch her lips to his. They were already breaking the parameters of their meeting, and she was on the verge of giving in.

"I'm not Vulcan," Sheldon confessed, and Amy bit back a smile. "I'm just a man. But I still have no idea what I'm doing."

"We can figure it out together," she assured him quietly. "You have the next question."

"Amy," he breathed out, "do you..."

"Yes..."

"… remember what time I put my laundry in the dryer?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Spoilers through 9x07 (The Spock Resonance). Mostly AU after that. Thank you for reading and reviewing and sticking with this during this rough patch in canon. Standard disclaimers apply. A quick warning: some discussion of alcohol abuse.**

* * *

" _Amy," he breathed out, "do you..."_

" _Yes..."_

"… _remember what time I put my laundry in the dryer?"_

Amy leaned back slightly, and as Sheldon straightened as well, mirroring her actions. She knew they shouldn't progress physically, as it went against their self-imposed rules for the evening, but she still felt a small sting at the change in subject. It wasn't nearly as painful as the metaphorical bucket of ice water she felt when he had brought up a television show on their anniversary.

"I, um," she stammered. "I didn't check the time when we came upstairs. How long does your dryer cycle usually take?" Sheldon pulled his hand away from her thigh, and she missed his touch immediately.

"Typically, forty-six minutes for a clothing load, which includes seven outfits and two sets of pajamas. Each additional item increases the drying time from thirty seconds to one minute and seventeen seconds, depending on the weight. Towels and bathrobes take fifty-eight minutes. My sheets are usually done in forty minutes, but the comforter goes to a cleaning service as the recommendation is to wash in a front loading machine only. Twice a year, the building super performs maintenance on the dryers and vents, which cuts the drying time by five minutes for the first two weeks, with an additional minute each week..."

"Sheldon," Amy interrupted, "maybe we should just go check on it."

He shrugged. "Okay." Before they stood together, Sheldon reached out to pick up both tea mugs from the table and carried them to the kitchen counter. "Before we head downstairs, I need to void my bladder. Do you need to use the bathroom first?" Amy considered it for a second, but shook her head, prompting Sheldon to smile and walk quickly away toward the bathroom.

As she heard the door shut, an empty silence fell around her as she stood alone in the main living area of the apartment. Her feet carried her to the refrigerator, where she inspected the items posted there with magnets. There were several take-out menus, all from the usual weeknight selections. It had been months since she had shared a meal with the entire group in the apartment, and even the familiar wrinkled, and possibly outdated, menus appeared foreign to her. On the front of the refrigerator door, Sheldon's "apartment flag" was plastered to the upper right corner. Beneath that were various letters, papers, and charts: a notice from the building manager about upcoming pest control, a receipt from Sheldon's last dental exam which listed his next appointment date, and the infamous bowel movement schedule. Their friends were all quite disturbed by the meticulous detail he afforded his digestive system, but Amy didn't see what the problem was. It was a normal biological function that provided a great deal of knowledge about one's health, although she conceded the kitchen refrigerator was probably not the best place to post his data. Bernadette taught her how to track her menstrual cycles, but that information was kept in a private spreadsheet on her computer rather than a hard copy where visitors could read it.

Under a circular magnet Amy recognized as one they got at the Tournament of Roses parade a couple years before, there was a coupon for Leonard's preferred brand of soy milk that had printed at the grocery store cash register. She twisted the red and white coupon sideways and realized the expiration date had already passed. _Leonard must have forgotten to take_ _this with him_ , Amy thought, and she pulled it down to throw it in the recycling bin.

She crumbled the piece of paper slightly, pulled up the lid, and froze. Normally, the recycling bin consisted of mostly paper, plastic orange juice containers, and occasional glass jars or bottles from jams and soy sauce. The bucket was usually lightweight, but this time was heavy under the weight of several glass bottles. Paper covered the bottom half of the container, but she could tell by the clinking sound that the majority was brown or clear glass. She had not seen the recycling this full with beer bottles since Rajesh required the alcohol in order to speak, and even then, his normal usage combined with the rest of their friends' consumption didn't fill the bin. Perhaps Sheldon had been lax in taking out his recycling, since that used to be one of Leonard's duties.

But Sheldon didn't drink alcohol, and their friends had been eating dinner at the Howard and Bernadette's house. Where was all this coming from?

At that moment, she heard the bathroom door click open, and Amy pushed the recycling bin lid back down as Sheldon's footsteps echoed down the hall. Amy frantically straightened her hair and clothes, as if she was trying to hide her snooping.

"Well then," Sheldon announced. "I propose we pause our inquiry for a laundry check. I only have a seven minute grace period before wrinkles start to set in. And I'm almost out of quarters."

"Seconded," Amy agreed.

"Do you want to walk with me?" Sheldon asked, a bit quieter and less sure than he had been. "If you would prefer to remain here and use the bathroom or take in a new article from the _Journal of Physics_ , you are welcome to stay. But, I am enjoying your company."

"Then let's go!" she exclaimed. He grinned, walked over to the door, and opened it for Amy.

"How has your research been going?" he asked as she brushed past him to exit the apartment. He shut the door and they started down the stairs, side by side.

"Slow," she sighed. "I'm having trouble getting administrative documents back in any timely fashion. I have two graduate assistants this semester. One of them believes he's above filling out paperwork, and the other apparently doesn't own a watch."

"How can one not own a watch? Even though I don't understand why one wouldn't want to have one, you can always check the time from any clock or phone."

"I didn't mean that literally. He just doesn't submit his work in a timely fashion."

"Well you should tell him it's quite fashionable to wear a watch. And as a bonus, he could learn to keep track of time." Amy giggled, which caused Sheldon to snicker, and in their laughter, they nearly collided with the blonde woman ascending the stairs.

"Oh," Penny said, startled as her sudden presence caused Amy to back up into Sheldon at the corner of the first landing. Penny looked back and forth between Sheldon and Amy several times before muttering, "excuse me," before scurrying up the stairs. They remained on the landing until the heard a jingle of keys, followed by the door to apartment 4B open and shut quickly.

"Was that awkward?" Sheldon asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Mmhmm." Amy started down the stairs again and Sheldon quickly followed.

"That's peculiar. I understand why she is distant with me, but I thought you girls were on good terms. She didn't even say hello, how rude."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure we're on good terms. We had a bit of a disagreement," Amy admitted. "What is going on between you two?"

"I asked first."

"Actually, you didn't. I did."

Sheldon stopped and looked up, rewinding the past few seconds of conversation. "Drats. She accused me of handling this split in an unhealthy manner, which is not true. I told her the pot was calling the kettle black, we had an argument, and she hasn't spoken to me since."

"Hold on." Amy held her hand up. "Penny and Leonard are having problems again?"

"No, I meant the unhealthy thing she claimed I was doing was the same thing she's been doing for years without a breakup, and I called her out on it." Amy was puzzled, but as they continued moving across the third floor landing, where their last conversation had occurred, it hit her.

She remembered the way Sheldon's limbs moved more fluidly and his speech slurred slightly. He struggled to maintain eye contact, but when she met his gaze, she recognized the nystagmus. He had kept his distance from her, but she could still smell the faint odor of alcohol emanating from his breath. She had only seen him under the influence a couple times, but it didn't take much to get him to the point of total inebriation, due to his lack of experience. It stood to reason that he would have to build his tolerance to alcohol in order to not end up falling-down drunk.

The recycling bin full of beer bottles suddenly made sense.

"Sheldon, I've seen you consume alcohol twice, and both times you became completely intoxicated. Vomiting and barely able to stand. I saw the bottles in your recycling earlier. What is going on?"

"I bought a six-pack of beer pretty soon after our breakup. It was one of those craft brews that tasted like a fermented apple pie. After I finished that one, I bought another flavor that looked interesting. They say it's an acquired taste and, well, I acquired it." Sheldon shrugged and continued down the stairs.

Amy didn't say anything until they reached the doorway of the laundry room. "What did Penny say to you?" Sheldon reached the still-running dryer and turned around.

"She thought that I was using alcohol to mask my emotions in regards to our breakup. And Leonard's moving out. Because my father was an alcoholic and there is a genetic predisposition, she figured it would be healthier if I returned to my teetotaling state."

"Do you think she's right?"

Sheldon huffed. "No. And that isn't the point anyway. If I consume one or two beverages with an alcohol content of 5% or less over the course of one evening, given my body weight and the rate of metabolism, I would be nowhere near the legal threshold for intoxication. I don't drive anyway. Plus, Penny drinks more than that."

"This isn't about Penny," Amy pointed out.

"Are you accusing me of something too, Dr. Fowler? Do you think I've developed a drinking problem?" Sheldon folded his arms across his chest, allowing the walls he had put up around him earlier in the room to reconstruct themselves.

"No, I'm not. And I don't," Amy answered honestly. "I think it might be worrying to see a person you care about who rarely drank, didn't handle liquor well, and also has a family history to regularly imbibe. Especially when that coincides with major negative life events, like your best friend and long time roommate moving out, and our… separation. She was probably just concerned."

"I see," Sheldon said. "So did you polish off more wine bottles after you dumped me?"

"Actually, I think I had less. I usually only drink wine on girls nights or dates, but I didn't really feel like drinking alone." She noticed Sheldon recoil a little at the word 'dates', although he made an attempt to hide it.

"Interesting. I found it easier to consume alcohol alone until I was comfortable with my reaction. By the time we took Kripke's fencing class, I felt that I wouldn't make a total ass out of myself drinking a beer public. I may have misjudged that a bit."

Amy took a few steps closer to him. "If anything, some studies suggest your obsessive compulsive behaviors and other personality traits may put you at a lower risk for substance abuse. I mean, it could still happen, but it's statistically less likely."

Sheldon nodded. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't drink anymore. I don't need it, although being able to have a drink in a bar made me feel a little less ostracized than usual."

"It may be a good idea for both of us to abstain when we might be tempted to, um, be physically intimate," Amy pointed out. "At least until we're… you know..."

"I concur," he agreed quickly.

"But that doesn't mean you can't have a drink with the guys from time to time. I did the same thing when I got together with Penny and Bernadette."

"Speaking of which," Sheldon interjected, "what happened between you and Penny?"

Amy cleared her throat. "Um, can we table that for now, until we have reestablished our rules for discussion?" Sheldon nodded and leaned against the dryer. The background rhythm of the machine was the only sound in the room.

Amy took another step forward and reached for Sheldon's hand. "Um, while we wait for your clothes, and the rules are still… mmmph." Her words were cut off by his mouth covering hers.

It wasn't the most graceful kiss. She felt a sting of pain where the force of their teeth behind their closed lips pinched the skin. Sheldon was normally firm, yet gentle in his touch, but he pressed toward her with his whole body, which nearly knocked her off her feet. His hands reached up and tangled in the hair that fell down over her ears and cheeks, and his grasp was the only thing keeping her from awkwardly stumbling backward.

Amy swung her arms up, perhaps a little too quickly, and threw them around Sheldon's neck. The motion pushed him back again and they tumbled together into the dryer.

"Ow," Sheldon mumbled as he momentarily broke contact with her mouth.

"Sorry," Amy whispered, before he silenced her again, this time with his mouth slightly apart. After a second to adjust to the new sensation, she registered his tongue pushing against her lips. She hesitantly parted her mouth. He pulled her face deeper into his as the glasses on her face turned nearly sixty degrees. Without looking, Sheldon grasped the edge of her frames with a thumb to keep them from falling, and deepened the kiss more.

Amy felt the tension from earlier start to unravel as they continued to tangle their lips and tongues, and occasionally teeth. After every breath, their reconnection became less clumsy and the sensations amplified everywhere from ears to knees. An involuntary moan came out as Sheldon's hands left the sides of her face and gently pulled her lower body into his.

Just as she thrust her hands into his hair, even though it pulled his neck at an uncomfortable angle, the obnoxious buzzer of the dryer startled them. Sheldon gasped, and they broke apart quickly, out of breath and with wide eyes and racing hearts. Amy shifted her glasses back down into their proper position.

"That..." he stuttered, "I… um…"

"Yeah."

Sheldon nodded, and silently went to work filling his laundry basket with the clean clothes. Amy took a few deep breaths, commanding her body to go back to a calmer state.

"I can fold this upstairs while we finish our discussion," Sheldon stated, interrupting Amy from her processing of the last few minutes.

"Okay." He picked up his basket. They headed up the stairs to his apartment, stealing glances at each other whenever they crossed a landing.

Amy loved him, but she was falling for him in a way she hadn't before. She realized they were going about this backward, much like the progression of their discussion from the most recent issues back to the point where things started to go awry. It was forward momentum, but in reverse, and for the first time in months it felt like things were on the right track.

She could only hope that when the evening was over, Sheldon would feel the same way.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Spoilers through 9x07 only. This is likely the penultimate chapter, as I'm realizing that I don't have the organizational skills anymore to balance writing and real life. Disclaimer: I don't own the show, the characters, or the Star Wars earrings. Yet.**

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing. Off to find a stiff drink before this episode airs...**

* * *

They finished their trek up the stairs in silence. Amy could count on one hand the number of times over the years they had a lull in conversation that was comfortable and not born out of an argument or the cusp of an intellectual breakthrough. She knew Sheldon was processing what had just happened in the laundry room, and in all honesty it was difficult to process herself. Until a few minutes ago, every kiss she had experienced was closed mouth and tightly wound. But there was no control in _that_ kiss, as Sheldon had unleashed a sort of passion laced with awkwardness. In a way, she was thrilled that even in his boldest move yet, his inexperience shone through. It wasn't fair or rational, given her attempts at dating and the kiss she shared with Dave, but she hoped he hadn't run out and practiced on another woman during their separation.

"Amy?" Sheldon asked, disturbing her from her thoughts. "Would you mind opening the door for me?"

"Sure." She reached around him and the laundry basket and opened the door to 4A.

They had left the lights on in the apartment, but now with the sun completely down and the windows fully dark, the living area felt more insular and intimate. The dim light of lamps after nightfall reminded her of the cheap teen fiction books she used to sneak from the middle school library as a child. They were far under her reading level, but the descriptions of bedrooms with a flashlight glow where girls giggled and told stories during slumber parties left her enraptured. She daydreamed of having girlfriends who would share bowls of popcorn with her during sappy movies, then, after they grew tired and their boundaries fell under the curtain of darkness, they'd share deep secrets and crushes and pieces of their souls. Amy had convinced herself that these fantasies only existed in juvenile tales until the first few girls nights she shared with Penny and Bernadette. While their gatherings were not nearly as tantalizing or climactic as the stories she remembered, their bonds of friendship molded and strengthened with the openness that came with late nights… and one too many glasses of wine. The next morning, after sleeping late and sobering up, she often wondered if those new strands felt as uncomfortable to them as they did to her.

Sheldon followed Amy into the apartment, and she shut the door behind her. Immediately, he passed through the living room and stepped up into the hall leading to the bedrooms. She hesitated by the whiteboard.

"Do you want me to wait here while you put your clothes away?"

Sheldon turned, scraping the plastic basket on the corner of the wall. "If you want. Or we could continue our conversation in my room while I fold." Amy smiled and followed him to the bedroom.

"It surprises me how poor the lighting is in your room," Amy pointed out as they entered through his doorway. "I always thought you'd use brighter bulbs or have extra lamps or something."

"Well, I don't spend a lot of time in here, except when sleeping. It's far more comfortable to work at my desk, and I typically read on the couch." Sheldon placed the basket on the bed and pulled the blue plastic folding board off the top. "I guess we could reinstate the discussion guidelines and continue. Do you need a refresher of the rules we enacted?"

Amy shook her head. She began to pace at the foot of his bed. "I know them. I believe it is your turn to ask a question?"

"Very well. I'm not sure what this has to do with our situation, but what happened between you and Penny?"

"Well," Amy sighed. She paused as Sheldon shook out a green t-shirt and placed it over the board. "There wasn't a screaming match or a bout of hair pulling while smashing coffee tables. It's just... in the process of our breakup, I realized you weren't the only person I was questioning my relationship with."

Sheldon stopped folding and looked up at her. "I don't understand. Was she not supportive of your decision to end the relationship with me? She seemed to be concerned with your overall happiness."

"She is. But she's not. It's complicated." Amy stopped pacing and sat on the comforter.

"Interesting." He pulled another shirt from the basket and began to fold. "I assumed Penny had sided with you in the breakup. After she told me that I had not treated you well in the relationship, she never indicated that our situation could be repaired in the future. There wasn't any encouragement to woo you or even have the discussion we're having now." Sheldon put the shirt aside and pulled out a black Flash t-shirt, which was inside out.

Amy snorted. "I guess our experiences weren't all that different."

"Would you have preferred they meddled in our breakup? Set us up on a blind date together or locked us in a closet?" At the mention of a closet, Amy bristled.

"No, not… not really."

Sheldon paused. "Did Penny and Bernadette actually lock you in a closet at your mother's suggestion?"

"Sort of. I was getting upset and needed to be alone anyway."

"And recreating a demoralizing act from your childhood when you were in emotional distress was supposed to help?" Sheldon's voice was becoming laced with irritation. "Because I've certainly never let Leonard take a belt to my backside when I've misbehaved."

"I don't know." Amy jumped off the bed. She pulled a sock from the basket and began digging for the match. "My mother was a very controlling parent with unorthodox ways of dealing with rebellion and emerging adolescence. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I ended up dating a man who created a notarized relationship document with ironclad restrictions on what most people consider normal intimate behavior."

"Hang on. Penny said I was a bad boyfriend to you. I'm aware that I can come off as a know-it-all. I've turned my nose up at your field of study, and I've downplayed your physical desires. I understand why you felt our relationship was the metaphorical rocking chair, going nowhere fast. But how does that make me one of those abusive cads like Penny had lined up before she settled down with Leonard?"

"It doesn't!" Amy grabbed the matching sock and tossed them on the bed before throwing her hands up in frustration. "There were unhealthy aspects to our relationship, yes, and we need to work on those. That's how this break up happened. But that doesn't mean you're a horrible person or that we're beyond repair. The disagreement I had with Penny has nothing to do with us."

"For someone who understands practically everything, I understand nothing right now." Sheldon stepped away from the folding board, closer to Amy. "You're stalling. What's the problem?"

"I needed to work out who I am as a person and not have my entire identity wrapped up in being part of you." Amy looked down, hesitant to meet Sheldon's confused stare.

"You've always been a complete person, apart from me. I mean, you've accomplished a great deal in your work. You have interests that are completely opposite of mine. I've always thought that we complimented each other."

"And across the hall," she pointed through the doorway, "I've sat there and listened to my friends treat our relationship as some sort of duo comedy act. We haven't done things in the order that most people do them, and I was okay with that until we got closer. We admitted we loved each other, and spent the night together, and suddenly there was this engagement ring. For the first time, I started to wonder if I was wrong and they were right. Maybe none of this was real, and I was going to spend the rest of my life playing house with rules and sleeping in separate beds..." Amy stopped and looked up at Sheldon, who appeared to be stunned from her words. They stared at each other for several long seconds, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears over the painful silence.

"Amy, none of this is a joke."

"I know that, now."

"I've told you this before, and I'm telling you again. You know me and repetition, I'll say it as many times as I need to. Until you believe it."

"I get it, Sheldon," Amy assured. "After we broke up, I expected the teasing and backhanded remarks to end. I thought my friends would see me as someone other than your girlfriend. I'm not sure if they never were able to do that, or they don't take either of us seriously as individuals."

"Well, I'm used to it. I've become adept at hiding how much their snide comments affect me." Sheldon's voice dropped to a raspy whisper. "But maybe if I hadn't, they would have known not to turn on you like that. I'm sorry."

Amy swallowed and shook her head. "It's not your fault. The night of the bachelorette party, I thought maybe I was being too sensitive. Penny pierced my ears for me, but it just felt uncomfortable, like I was some sort of makeover conquest. I was trying to do something for myself, and they were trying to make me, well, more like them and less like you."

Sheldon reached up with both hands and paused. "May I?" Amy nodded, and he brushed back the hair from both ears, revealing the silver studs in each lobe. After resting her hair over her ears, his fingers trailed down her cheeks gently, which triggered a light shiver down her body.

"After Penny told me she did this to you, I found some Star Wars earrings online. If you'd be willing to accompany me to the new movie when it comes out, I will buy you a pair to wear."

"I don't know, Sheldon. I'm still getting used to the starter earrings..."

"Unless you have already planned to go in full costume..."

"Earrings it is!" Amy exclaimed. She smiled. "Thank you, Sheldon." She nodded toward his laundry basket, and together they went back to folding the clean clothing.

"So there was some sort of confrontation with Penny. What was that about?"

"Oh, that." Amy took a deep breath. "One night, we were at Howard and Bernadette's house, and they put some sort of online dating app on my phone. I thought they were trying to be helpful, but they ended up turning the whole thing into some sort of drinking game."

"They were making fun of you dating other people?"

"Not quite. Maybe a little. I was still so raw and hurting. I missed you and thought you were already over us, out looking for a new partner. I had been out on a couple of dates, and it was nice to see Dave again, but I hadn't told anyone."

"Huh." Sheldon finished folding the last t-shirt in the basket and reached for a pair of pants, while Amy continued to match up socks. "I figured Penny knew all about what you were up to, and that's partly why she hadn't said anything about you to me."

"She didn't know. And when they found out, they acted shocked that I could get a date on my own. I was humiliated." Amy paused, but Sheldon didn't respond immediately. "I avoided their calls for a while. No one ever apologized."

"When was the argument?" Sheldon asked.

"It wasn't so much an argument as an awkward confrontation. Penny showed up a couple weeks ago at my apartment and wanted to give me a full makeover, doll me up in uncomfortable clothes, and gave me some speech about third dates and putting out. I think she was trying to help, but it just proved that we're very different people. I told her she doesn't know me as well as she thought."

"Perhaps you know yourself better than you thought, as well." Sheldon's response brought a smile to her face, and a blush crept up her cheeks.

"I guess so. We haven't really spoken since then. I'm not sure what to say."

In silence, they finished sorting, folding, and putting away his laundry. She paired the last socks, and Sheldon grabbed the last pair of underwear from the basket and hurriedly stuffed it in the drawer. Once the clothes were off the bed, Sheldon placed the folding board and basket in the closet and shut the door. He turned to Amy and pulled his lips in with the same awkward discomfort she saw on their prom night.

"Amy, when I was considering the offer from CERN, I realized that I would be leaving the only friends that I've ever had. But honestly, while Leonard has been considerate and helpful after our separation, the rest of them have disregarded me as an inconvenience."

"You said Penny was concerned about you."

"True, but I don't feel that I could rely on her like I could before. Also, her priority is to her marriage, and I recognize that I'm not as welcome in their lives as I was before. Although, they'll have to hire someone to clean after I leave the area, and I'm sure they won't live up to my sanitary standards."

"So you still want to take the job on the east coast?" Sheldon didn't answer. He stepped toward Amy and took each of her hands in his. Leading her to the bed, they sat on the edge in the same places they had rolled dice between them years before.

Sheldon turned her hands over in his, "I do want the position. But you are correct, if we leave our jobs and friends and lives here behind, we should decide it together."

"And not because we're running away from difficult situations," Amy added.

"Agreed." Sheldon's thumbs ran over the backs of her hands, and she felt the cord about to snap. It wouldn't take anything at all to pull him back on the bed and fumble their way through loving each other. But before she gave in, before she let their openness push open the gates and let the cloud of desire and consume them, she had to know the one answer she had waited on all night.

"We're not following this physical contact rule very well, but I think I only have one more question for tonight. May I ask it now?" He tried to drop her hands and pull away, but she resisted, squeezing him tighter in reassurance.

Sheldon cleared his throat. "The lady has the floor."

Amy squeezed his hands and exhaled slowly. "Why do you want to marry me?"


End file.
